


Beware the Doc!

by TheMissingSpleen



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Period Drama - I'm now the BBC, Plot spoilers - someone dies, Ye olde Russians vs Nazis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 05:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14348652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMissingSpleen/pseuds/TheMissingSpleen
Summary: Dempsey and Nikolai are sent on a mission to assassinate the evil Dr Richtofen, but things don't go to plan.





	Beware the Doc!

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Operation Anthropoid (I have no idea what stage in history class I was like, you know what, let's write a fricking zombies fanfic about this) and a fanfiction I found on wattpad, a very long time ago.

It was a grey, bitter winter’s morning when they jumped from the DC-3 and fell to the twisted poisonous country that was Germany. From the thousands of feet in the sky that the Dakota cruised, the repetitive, but loud humming of the engines acted as a much needed solace. Freezing air ripped through the open door of the fuselage. The landscape below was not visible. A layer of thick fog coated the countryside. That would make landing all that more difficult, but there was no turning back now. The men watched the steady glowing red light in morbid anticipation. The crew was made up of two men. The Russian, Nikolai Belinski, was an exiled soldier, recruited by the British army. The other, Tank Dempsey was a United States Marine, chosen for his superb stealth skills. He had done this before.  
The light blinked green.  
Both froze momentarily, taking in their final moments of freedom. This was it.  
The Russian jumped first, with a sense of fearlessness that the other could only envy.  
The American took one last look at the cold, metallic olive drab interior of the aircraft before leaping into the unknown.  
The dense fog was showing no signs of clearing. It meant that they were less likely to be spotted, but forced the pair to open their parachutes early in the case that they had misinterpreted the fall. In other words, to stop them plunging to their deaths.  
They had one job, a job that both men were well aware of the risks that they would have to endure. They knew that they were close to the Polish border. That was their escape. They hoped.  
With the ground rushing up to meet them, the pair opened their ‘chutes. They seemed to lurch backwards several feet, before slowly dwindling to the ground.  
This is where their problems began.  
Dempsey, who had gained experience of parachuting from the Marines, made an exceptionally clumsy landing. He had aimed to land in a small field, but misjudged his speed. So instead of landing in the centre of the field, it was growing increasingly more likely that he was going to end up in a fir tree that bordered it. He braced himself for the immanent impact. He hoped, dearly hoped, that he would not end up like Peter McCain.  
His knees hit the tree first, snapping and tearing through his clothing. He grasped and clawed at the tree and its branches, hoping to grab something that would stop his fall. He lurched backwards, his parachute now tangled in the trees. He quickly undid the buckles that attached his parachute, he was going to have to fall the last few feet.  
He landed on his back. For a few moments he lay there, the cool earth calming his overheated skin. The smell of pines and sap reminding him of home.  
But this was not the time for reminiscing.  
He got to his feet, only for a shot of pain to throb from his ankle. Tentatively, he tried to move it. Good it was not broken, but another jarring pain began to pulse through his foot.  
He had only sprained it, he hoped.  
Dempsey looked up at his parachute tangled in the trees. He cursed himself for being so clumsy. There was no way he could reach it. It would have to stay there. A jackpot of a clue for the Nazis.  
Bracing himself for the pain he would feel in his ankle, he began his walk north, to the city of Breslau. 

Fortunately, Dempsey had regrouped with Nikolai fairly early on during his walk to Breslau. Unfortunately, they had made little progress with Dempsey’s injured ankle hindering them. The sun was setting and darkness would soon be upon them… and the curfews. They would have to find shelter and fast if they to survive being arrested by patrolling Germans.  
They had been walking along an old farm track for several miles, hoping that they would have a lower chance of being spotted than by using the main roads. Right at the end of the track, far off into the distance was a barn. It would be in no way luxurious, but it would provide shelter and protection. As they grew nearer to the barn, it seemed to deteriorate with every step.  
And only now did they see the words that marred the building.  
'Beware the Doc!'  
Morbid thoughts as to what the graffiti could mean, began to fill Dempsey’s mind. He began to worry as to what the three words meant as he found himself endlessly reciting the phrase. He told himself that it meant nothing, merely a child fooling around, but it certainly didn’t feel that way.  
Dempsey followed Nikolai into the barn, where they sat down and began to set up camp.


End file.
